Heartless Bloodlines
by RivalsAreAllies
Summary: The 75th Hunger Games marks the Third Quarter Quell, and as with the previous two Quarter Quells, there shall be a stipulation, a rule that allows the Capitol to remember…and the Districts to never forget. Tributes will be selected from the family of living Victors. These Tributes will learn of the cruelty of the Capitol...and of their heartless bloodlines. AU.


**Disclaimer: I do not own "_The Hunger Games_," or ANYTHING associated with said franchise, movie(s), literature, games, merchandise, or other media. All of the credit for the wonderful world of "_Earth Enthralled_," and "_Panem_," belong SOLELY to Suzanne Collins.**

**_Before-You-Read Background:_**** This BOLD, "_Pre-Story Pretext_," is my important, intrinsic, "_Before-You-Read Background,_" and these "_Before-Chapter-Author-Notes_," will almost ALWAYS contain UPPER-CASE Letters, of SOME sort. Proper grammar, and other things are used CORRECTLY in these "Pretext Prologues," though. …And while you should know that, you should also know that the ACTUAL STORY WILL contain GREAT spelling, grammar, punctuation, usage-and-mechanics, syntax, and semantics. Reading/RETAINING the NEXT portion of BOLDED text of IMPORTANT INFORMATION is HIGHLY RECOMMENDED! **

**Author Announcement(s): While the above statement is true, however, inspiration for starting my own series of novels, falls to Mrs. Suzanne Collins (Even Though Her Ideas Are FAR From Original), Mrs. J.K. Rowling, Mr. D.J. MacHale, Mr. J.R.R. Tolkien, Mr. C.S. Lewis, Mr. Philip Pullman, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and the darkly noble Mr. George Orwell (surprised he's in that list there, right?). One day, IF (BIIIIG IF, Since It's a VERY SLIM Chance) I should happen to ever manage to get my book(s) series published, and one of you awesome readers are sitting there in "_Barnes & Noble_," trying to read the novel in one sitting in the store, so you won't have to pay for it (hey, no shame in it—I do it sometimes…), you might just look up at the author and say: "_HEY! I KNEW that guy! I read his FanFiction! …I deserve some of his profits!_"**

**_Author Advertisement(s): _****That's right. Ads. I have TWELVE—Count-'Em, TWELVE—FanFictions On here, that will ALL end-up, being OVER 100K-Words, and they will ALL be updated REGULARLY—HOPEFULLY—from this point-on. …So, if you happen to read in any of the OTHER FanFic FanDoms, that I write for, then, PLEASE, by all means, do NOT hesitate to check-out some of my OTHER FanFictions! Check-out my profile for more information (And Some Awesome Quotes, As Well!), and MESSAGE ME, if you have ANY questions, or just want to chat! I, contrary to popular belief, LOVE to hear from fellow FanFiction-Readers, as-well-as, my own readers! …Also, it should be noted, that ANY AND ALL of my Comic-Based-FanFictions, are VERY EASY to understand, and they are MADE for EVEN a NOVICE/NON-Comics-Reader, to be able to understand VERY EASILY, and things are explained VERY clearly in these above-mentioned Comic-Based-FanFictions, of my own creation.**

**Important Information: This IS an AU ("_Alternate Universe_"). This story STARTS, right BEFORE the BEGINNING of "_The-75th-Hunger-Games/The-Third-Quarter-Quell_," and it will go through to the end of the series, following a different path than the books did. EVERYTHING that happened in "_The Hunger Games (Book 1)_," has ALREADY HAPPENED by the start of this FanFic, but after the end of the first book, things started to happen DIFFERENTLY in THIS [AU] universe, as you will soon see.**

**Author's Amendment: …ANYWAYS… …I hope that any and all of you read and enjoy this work of FanFiction, and that I get some REVIEWS! I would greatly appreciate your opinion and/or review of this story (Or Any Other Story Of Mine You Happen To Find Yourself Interested In, Such As My Other Hunger Games FanFic, "_A World of Warriors_"), as I take every last review and comment into account, in order to make it a more enjoyable experience for everyone reading it. ENJOY!**

* * *

**Heartless Bloodlines **

**A FanFic By: D. Raj David**

* * *

**I. Wilted Flowers and Bright Embers**

Her heart halted. It did not pause. It did not stutter. It halted. It stopped—just as every other part of her now-malfunctioning body stopped as well. She, for a good second, was not living. Then the second passed. Then she exhaled. Then she wished for death, once again…a death she was sure she had coming.

"Primrose Everdeen." Effie called, once again.

Prim inhaled deeply. She had known this would happen. Others had assumed. Prim had known.

She was going to die.

* * *

"Friends, family…foes. We gather here today to celebrate the passing of the anniversary of the terrible Dark Days, and of the uprising that has cost this country so very much. As you all know, those days, that uprising, cost the Capitol and the Districts themselves, very dearly. We paid our price. Now, you too must pay yours. Thus, to allow for that repayment to be made, the Hunger Games were born." President Snow started, his face illuminated brightly on the screen in front of the massively large crowd in front of the main stage in District Four.

"This pageant of honor, of determination…of sacrifice…was created to remind the Districts of what they lost…of the price they paid—the price that they must _continue_ to pay—to exist in a country where the government was, is, and forever-more will be, strong enough, and fair enough, to end such a terrible uprising and administer justice. And _justice_ is a _necessity_ for us…for Panem…for The Hunger Games." Snow continued, pausing for effect…or for _control_.

"Today, on the 75th anniversary of the uprising, on the day of the 75th annual Hunger Games Reapings, we mark as the Third Quarter Quell. And, today, as with the previous two Quarter Quells, there shall be a stipulation…a rule that allows the Capitol to remember…and the Districts to never forget." Snow added, and he received the reaction he so desperately wanted—_needed_. The entire crowd inhaled deeply. They all held their breaths.

"For the Seventy-fifth Anniversary of the rebellion, to remind all those foolish enough to stand against the Capitol that they bring death to those they care for as well, each Tribute will be selected from a pool that contains _only _the _family _of living Victors." Snow finished. The crowd did not exhale.

"This year's Games reflect _family _and will truly reflect _unity_, as each Tribute will be allowed _two _Mentors, _each_—Mentors that are related to the Tributes, mentors that will want them to succeed, and will hate to see them _fail_. _And_, because _only _the family of Victors are allowed to participate this year, this means that there will be significantly _less _names in the reaping bowls. Thus, to assure that there are _plenty _of names in this year's pool, I am raising the age limit of the Tributes—this year alone—to the age of 20. …And, decreasing the minimum age of the Tributes—this year alone—to the age of 10." Snow added adamantly.

The Screen shut off, and the Mayor rose, once again to take his place at the front of the stage. He, with ragged breath, and shaking hands, said his obligatory speech. And then the glass bowls were displayed.

"Ladies first." said a woman with dreadfully Captiol-esque taste in…_everything_.

She reached her hand into the first glass bowl, and she swirled the names about, seeming to take her time…and enjoy the feeling of being a bringer of death.

Finally, the woman caught a name, and she grabbed it, not wasting a second, as she quickly snatched the name out of the bowl.

She unfolded the paper, and she smiled with true sincerity, as if she truly believed that this girl was about to receive some sort of distinguishable honor. The truly horrible part may have been that the woman actually believed that.

"Cassandra Cresta." the woman called aloud. Almost instantaneously, there was a loud cry from the audience.

"NO! NONONONONO!" a vehement voice yelled from the back. Everyone turned to face objector. It was the voice of Annie Cresta.

Finnick immediately plastered his lips to Annie's own open mouth, silencing her. He tasted the sea—as he always did, as he always _loved _to taste from her—but the salinity was increased due to his lover's tears spilling down her face.

Finnick finally released her lips, and he kissed her tears away, as new ones began to fall. But Annie remained silent, looking down as tears flowed freely from her eyes.

"Annie." he said simply, surely. She slowly looked up at him, her emerald eyes meeting his own, as her brown hair whirled wickedly around her face.

"Annie, listen to me. She will come back. She's _my _sister now, too, remember?" Finnick said, gently grabbing her hand and rubbing her engagement ring softly. She nodded in response.

"That means she's _my _family too. And I will _never _allow any harm to come to my family. Do you understand me? She _will _come back. You and me, Annie. Her mentors. You and Me. We. Will. Bring. Her. Back." Finnick said. She smiled slightly and nodded.

He smiled at her, as the sun gleamed off of his bold bronze hair, giving him the true air of a guardian angel. And that was exactly what he was—to Annie, anyways.

Finnick then glanced at the stage to see Cassandra holding her head high. Finnick's sea-green eyes met Cassandra's own stunning sea-like eyes, right as the fifteen-year-old winked at him, her flaring red hair wafting warily in the breeze. Finnick smirked. He was now very glad he had chosen to spend so much time with Annie's sister. Hopefully, more than just his personality had worn off on her.

Hopefully, it would be enough to save her. Hopefully.

* * *

"Bethany Blythe." the man called, his sincerely sinister smile accentuating his disgusting Capitol clothing.

Beetee had tears in his eyes. His ashen skin dampened as the tears rolled down his face, contrasting with the dark, short-cropped hair he was sporting. His niece was all he had left. Her parents were dead—because of _him_, because of what the Capitol had blamed _him _for. They had already punished him…and now they were punishing him once again, by filling his life with death—deaths of the ones he loved. Death of the only girl he had left, the only _person _he had left.

Beetee was not a rebellious type, but he was smart, and that scared the Capitol. And they fought fear with fear. Right now, Beetee was sure they had won. Bethany held a look of disgust—disgust for what, exactly, was unclear—as the sixteen-year-old maneuvered her way to stage, her brown hair and heartfelt hazel eyes never leaving the sight of the man from the Capitol.

Her disgust for the Capitol was matched by her _fear _of the Capitol. And she wasn't sure which one would win in the end.

* * *

"Alexander Mason."

Johanna ground her teeth. How could this have happened? The boy wasn't even legally her brother. She shouldn't have cared for him. She shouldn't have let him get close to her, let him into her own world…shown him love. Snow fed on Johanna's happiness…and he was well-fed, as he had eaten all there was to eat. Snow sensed when compassion was present…and then he killed it. He _always _killed it. But, the boy was called to the stage as Alexander _Mason_, and _not _as Alexander _LaRouse_, which was his true legal name.

That meant one thing. Snow had intervened—_personally_. He had taken _everything_ from Johanna. And then she had found Alex. She had taken him in, consoled him, raised him—everything, but legally adopted him, to avoid this very thing happening to him…but, yet, here he was, walking to his doom. Her brother was going to die, and it was her fault. Again.

She wanted to die. But, Snow wouldn't allow her to—not _yet _anyways. She was rebellious, and he would beat the rebellion out her—and then kill her. That was the way he did things—_efficiently_. Johanna huffed. She would die with dignity, and she would use her family's demise as her reason to _fight_, not her reason to surrender—or so she had thought, until Snow had given her a brother…only to rip him away again.

'_Dammit. Don't cry, Jo. Don't you fucking cry. That boy needs you, not some unstable emotional wreck. Get it together, goddammit! Ha! God. He must have one nice sense of humor if he exists. I will not cry—not yet. Not until I bring Lex home. Not yet_.' Johanna thought to herself, as she was on the verge of tears.

Her bold brown hair and brutal brown eyes matched her external demeanor as she met Alex's own brash brown eyes. She smiled and nodded. He exhaled deeply, as the thirteen-year-old nodded in return. She narrowed her eyes and winked at him. He smirked. _There _he was. _That _was the brother she knew. He had a shot—and he would take it.

Johanna hoped it would be enough.

* * *

"Primrose Everdeen." Effie said for the final time.

Prim finally exhaled and shook her eyes free of the tears that threatened to fall. She wasn't stupid. She didn't _assume _that this would happen to her, like all the rest did. Prim _knew_. That's why she had gone to Haymitch. That's why she had broken-down, crying in front of him. That's why he had prepared her for this—for this moment.

She finally began to make her way forward, as Katniss watched from the back, her gruesome grey Seam eyes expertly watching her sister, as Prim moved forward, her bright blond hair wavering slightly in the wind as she did so. Prim's bright blue eyes were locked on her shoes as made her advance, and they stayed there—until something Haymitch told her resonated within her.

'_Look, pixie-stick. I'm not gonna lie to you. You look small, fragile—breakable. But you're not. You're not, you understand me? You're more like your sister than you know. You're better than her too…better than me, for that matter, too. You know why? Because you put others first. Listen to me, Prim. Killing…ughh. Killing is a nasty act. It's…it takes…' _Haymitch had started, trailing off.

'_When you kill someone, they don't leave you, Prim. The stay with you. Their life, their death, it becomes yours. It weighs on your soul, kid. Trust me. The thing is, though, that when you have no soul, that's no problem. And when you have nobody but yourself, you have no soul…again, trust me on that. Katniss, me, the other Victors, we had no souls. We had ourselves, and that was it. But, you…you do have a soul. And a good one, at that. So if you kill, it will weigh on your little soul there, pixie-stick. But you can take that weight, and you can use that weight to enhance your own life, to live for the people that are no longer able to live for themselves.'_ Haymitch had continued.

'_Because that's what you do, Prim. You live for others. You think that's easy, but it's not. It takes a soul…it takes strength, and that same strength is what will bring you home, you understand? So, look at me, Prim. Yes, you look weak, and feeble, and fragile…but there is one part of you that shows that strength that you have, Prim. You know that that is? Your eyes. Never hide your eyes, and I guarantee, no one will charge you without a second thought. Your eyes, you understand me, pixie-stick?'_ Prim remembered the last of Haymitch's speech, and she swiftly snapped her head up, glaring directly into the camera.

A thirteen-year-old girl was glaring. At the Capitol. She was either crazy or smart. Or both. She hoped both. Because if she was both, then that meant that she was smart enough to think of a plan to win…and crazy enough to try it.

The eyes of Katniss Everdeen went wide, when she saw Prim snap her head up. Katniss' dark hair, braided as always, swayed silently in the wind, matching the eerie demeanor all around, as four more sets of eyes surveyed Prim intently.

The first set of eyes belonged to Peeta Mellark, and, as his bold blue eyes stuck to Prim, his ash-blond hair stayed just as still, not affected by the wind, as if it was just as stubborn as he was. Peeta's eyes were filled with sadness. The second set of eyes belonged Prim's mother. They were filled with tears, and they were on the verge of spilling over.

The third set of eyes belonged to Rory Hawthorne, as they watched the girl he loved be carried to her death. They _were_ overflowing with tears.

The fourth set of eyes were also gruesomely grey, and they belonged to Gale Hawthorne as they surveyed Prim with tenderness, while his dark hair and demeanor stated something different towards the Capitol. They were filled with rage. And they were directed at the camera, just as Prim's own eyes were. Gale's smile was for Prim, and her bravery, but his hatred was for the Capitol.

"I volunteer!" Katniss yelled, at the top of her lungs. Effie, for the first time in her life, looked genuinely upset, saddened…and angry. Angry at the Capitol, perhaps.

"…I am terribly sorry, Katniss, but the rules do not allow for a Victor reenter the arena. I am afraid that you cannot volunteer for your sister." Effie said, sorrowfully.

Katniss' hand felt like it was made of iron as it dropped to her side. She couldn't do anything to help her sister. Not a damn thing.

Effie took a deep breath, and she spoke once more, placing her hands of Prim's shoulders.

"Now, time for the boys' turn." she said, this time less happily.

She plucked a name from the bowl, and she read the name aloud. "Rye Mellark." she said loudly.

Peeta looked across the crowd at his older brother, and he was disgusted by what he saw. Rye was one of the many siblings that Peeta had—that would have gladly watched him _die _last year, rather than take his place. Rye was looking at Prim, not like an ally, but like she was his first target. Peeta clenched his fist.

No. Prim was like a sister to him, and she was his family. Rye was not—blood had nothing to say in the matter. Peeta wanted to protect Prim…but knew not how to do so.

"I volunteer!" he shouted.

Effie closed her eyes and looked down. "Mr. Mellark, I've already explained to your lovely girlfriend that this cannot be done." she said, through a slightly pained voice.

Peeta's hand fell slowly. Katniss turned to him, and shot him a glare, as the two were standing right next to each other.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"Why would you do that? What's the point? You can't take her place." Katniss chastised him.

"No, Katniss. But, I could have gotten her to the end—somehow. And then…I don't know…jumped off a cliff or something—" Peeta started, but Katniss stopped him, by slapping him—_hard_.

"We don't need any more martyrs, Peeta. Why would you do that? I can't…lose you…too…" Katniss said, trailing off, and looking away from him.

Peeta didn't know how to react. There were no more cameras watching them. There were no more parachutes that depended on false romance. What Katniss had just said wasn't an act. It was…_real_.

Peeta remained silent, but from across the crowd, Gale saw everything, all-the-while keeping his mouth shut tight.

Rye Mellark began to walk towards the stage, and as he did so, the eighteen-year-old was immediately stopped by a voice.

"I volunteer!" a vicious voice rang out from the crowd.

All eyes turned to find the source. It was Gale.

"…I'm sorry, but _only _the _family _of the current living Victors may be reaped _this _year, Mr.—" Effie started, but Gale cut her off.

"I am related to one of the Victors. I'm Gale Hawthorne, the biological cousin of Primrose and Katniss Everdeen. I assure you, I am the blood-relative of Katniss and Primrose Everdeen. Do I look like I'm lying? That is my little cousin on that stage. Bring me up there, and tell me we don't look alike!" Gale boomed angrily.

"…I'm sorry, but due to your circumstances, I have no way to validate your story, Mr. Hawthorne." Effie replied.

"Then don't. It's obvious that the Everdeen family cares for me—_deeply_." Gale said, shooting a sideways glance at Katniss and Peeta. "Isn't that the point? To take away what they _care _about? Is that not the _price _we have to pay here today? Believe me, taking me away will hurt more than taking Rye away. So, do what's logical, and take _me_. Take me—and my cousin." Gale reasoned.

Katniss inhaled sharply. '_This isn't real._' she thought. '_It can't be_.' she added silently. Prim, Peeta, Gale…too much. It was too much. For the first time in her life, Katniss Everdeen was experiencing something she could _not _handle.

Effie sighed very deeply. "Very well, Mr. Hawthorne. You may come up." she relented.

Gale nodded solemnly and he slowly, surely, took his place beside Prim. She looked up at him, and he smiled and winked at her. Prim smiled slightly in return.

"Alright, you two, shake hands!" Effie chirped, trying her best to sound cheerful…but failing. And, so the two Tributes from District Twelve shook hands, and marched to their deaths.

* * *

Cassie sat still, taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself, when the door suddenly opened.

Finnick and Annie stood there, silently appraising her.

Silence passed. Then the silence became deafening.

"How are you feel—" Finnick started, but Cassie cut him off.

"You really wanna know how I'm feeling? I feel…sad. It pains me to no end to know what I know." Cassie said in response.

Finnick raised an eyebrow, and Annie immediately went to her sister's side, and gently grabbed her hand, placing a loose strand of her fire-red hair behind her ear.

"You will come back, Cassie. There is no reason to be sad. I will not come home without you, you hear me?" Annie said.

Cassie smiled at her sister. "Annie, I _am _coming home. _That _is what I _know_. And it's _that _information that makes me sad. Because there will be so many that will have to die for that to happen." Cassie said, seriously, her eyes narrowing at Finnick.

"Now, look. I will do whatever it takes to come home, you both understand me? And I _will _succeed. You two _know _that there are two things I _never _do: quit of fail. This time will be no different. I'll even kill if I have to. But there is one thing I will _not _do. I will _not _become a murderer, you understand?" she stated, sure of herself.

Annie smiled happily at her sister and kissed her forehead. "Of course I understand, Cass." she replied, smiling sorrowfully.

Finnick looked sternly at Cassie. "You know what, Shark? I think I do understand. All too well." Finnick said, smiling sincerely.

"Hell, I'll even be back in time for the wedding!" Cassie said, laughing, as she gestured to Annie's engagement ring.

Annie and Finnick both smiled.

"You better be!" Annie said.

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't get any blood on your skin, huh? That won't match your dress, and I'm not taking it back! It cost a fortune!" Finnick joked. Cassie glared playfully at him.

"No promises, Finn." she retorted, smirking.

Suddenly, a Peacekeeper entered the room. "Time's up." he said sternly.

Finnick and Annie both hugged Cassie, got up, and nodded at the Peacekeeper.

"We'll see you on the train, Shark." Finnick said, winking at her.

And then they were gone.

Ten minutes. Cassie had ten minutes alone to herself. And then she belonged to the Capitol. She scoffed. They were going to _own _her. Well, she was going to make sure that they regretted buying her.

Outside of the room, Annie had held it together—until she was out of earshot. Then she broke down crying—crying for life or death, she wasn't sure. And Finnick was kissing her tears away again. She would cry her eyes out before she boarded the train. And then she would shed no more tears—not a single one, not until Annie Cresta was with her sister, crying over the other dead tributes.

* * *

"Five minutes." the Peacekeeper said, closing the door behind him.

Beetee immediately ran to Beth's side, and embraced her as if she were deathly terminal patient. In a way, she was. And her disease was hereditary.

"Are you alright?" he asked his niece.

She nodded silently.

Beetee exhaled deeply. "Beth, listen to me. You're coming home. You know why? Brains beats brawns. Always." he said surely.

"Hmmph. Unless someone uses their brawns to beat my brains out." she said in a darkly sarcastic tone.

"Bethany Blythe! You stop that! You're coming home, dammit!" Bette boomed.

Beth looked up at her uncle, staring him dead in the eye.

"Perhaps. But, you know me, Uncle Beetee. I work with the odds—not against them. And the odds say I'll die. So, I'll work with them. I like working with the odds, because they like working with me. The odds say I'll die. But they say I'll take those Capitol assholes with me. You're right. I am smarter than them. I'm tired. I'm sick and tired, Uncle! I'm tired of them constantly checking-up on us! I'm tired of being hunted! I refuse to be hunted any more. I've always been good at running—always. But, maybe this time, I'll try running _towards _the fight, instead of away from it. And then we'll see who the odds work for. I'm done being hunted. It's time I start doing some hunting, myself." she said, clenching her fists tightly.

There was a sickening silence for a time. And then Beetee spoke.

"I suppose we better warn your prey, then." he said, nodding at his niece. She eyed him seriously. He smiled, and she smiled back.

It was time to hunt.

* * *

"You're not going to talk?" Lex asked Johanna, raising an eyebrow at his older sister.

"There's nothing to say, Lex. We only talk, when information needs divulging. Last time I checked, there was nothing to be said, because we both already know all the facts. Firstly, Snow changed your legal name, and put it in the pool of names to be reaped. Secondly, you got reaped. And, thirdly, you're going to _win_. Anything else we need to talk about?" Johanna asked seriously.

Lex smiled at her and shook his head. God, he loved his sister. She could convince a dying blind cripple that he could beat God, himself. She could also convince a king to give up his throne, to surrender any chance of life. Lex had only one thing left to figure out. He wasn't sure if he was the cripple or the king.

"Good. The rest, we can discuss on the train." she said with finality. He nodded his head, fully believing her—fully believing that he could win. He trusted her, trusted that fact. He hoped his trust was not misplaced.

* * *

"Five minutes." the peacekeeper said, closing the door behind him.

Katniss ran to her sister and scooped her up into her arms, kissing her forehead, and hugging her tightly.

Prim's mother soon joined the embrace, tears threatening to fall. Although the eldest Everdeen held together, if only for daughters—it was the least she owed them.

"You _will _come back. And I'll be here, waiting, when you do." Mrs. Everdeen said to her youngest daughter, smiling as she did so.

Prim nodded in agreement.

"You'll be okay. You'll have the best eyes on you at all times." Katniss said suddenly, referring to Gale.

Prim nodded into her sister's shoulder. "I know." Prim responded somberly, but seriously. "And he's got the best medic." Prim added. Katniss pulled away, and surveyed her sister in her entirety. Prim had grown so much, and not just physically—because, physically, she was still much smaller than Katniss—but, also mentally, as well.

For the first time in a very long time, Katniss Everdeen smiled. "Yes. He has the best medic, indeed." Katniss agreed.

Katniss stared into Prim's eyes for long time, and she finally saw what Haymitch had already seen.

"_That's _why you were spending _so _much time with Haymitch, isn't it? You…you _knew_." Katniss said—or, rather, she _accused_.

Prim shook her head. "I assumed." she retorted.

Katniss snorted, laughing hysterically—possibly to keep from crying.

"Oh please. The _rest _of us would have _assumed_. You _knew_, didn't you, little duck?" Katniss asked. Prim narrated her eyes at her sister, before forming a sincere smile with her lips.

Katniss and her mother hugged Prim, once again.

"Time's up." the Peacekeeper said, entering the room. Katniss and her mother got up and nodded, hugging Prim goodbye once more.

"I'll see you on the train." Katniss uttered finally, leaving the room, right as a single tear escaped her eye. She had held it in though—just long enough.

So, silence crept in, and it stayed for a while. Then, the door opened once again, and in came Peeta and Haymitch.

They both stood there, unmoving and unnerved.

"Look, you two don't have much time, so if you have something to say, then you better say it _now_." Prim said shortly, smiling slightly.

Peeta returned the smile.

Peeta turned to Haymitch. Haymitch shrugged.

"I've got nothing. As you already know, pixie-stick, I only comment on something, when I want to criticize it, thus my lack of comments should be taken as a good thing." Haymitch said, smiling slightly and winking at her as he did so. "Oh, and _nice _glare! I'll bet even Snow wonders how many firecrackers your family has, huh?" Haymitch said amusingly.

Prim smiled at him. The she turned to Peeta.

Peeta swallowed—_hard_. Then he started. "Prim, listen to me. I'm so sorry, so very sorry. I put you here. I should have just kept my mouth shut during that interview last year. That started everything. I don't like wars—in fact, I _hate _them—but I started one—one I can't hope to win. And I got you caught in the crossfire. I am so, so, so very sorr—" Peeta started, but Prim cut him off.

"Stop." she said—rather commandingly. She really had been spending a lot of time with Haymitch.

"Peeta, I'm the one that should be apologizing to you. I put you in this position. I _knew _that this would happen—and I didn't prepare _you _for it. You know what Haymitch told me? He told me that you and I were the most alike. Because we valued our lives less than others. Well, that's a gift and a curse. I'm afraid of dying Peeta, and, of course, I don't want to. But, I know I _will_—maybe not in these Games, but _sometime_." Prim started, while Peeta and Haymitch looked at her with wide eyes.

"And, although I'm afraid of it, I've come to terms with it. Just like you did. And I did it to protect the ones I love, because I realized that the whole point of my life, was _them_—those people, Katniss, mom, Gale, the Hawthornes…_you_. My life wouldn't be anything without them, so I made my life _for _them. I made this decision, and I'm fully aware of it. I did it, and I wanted to do it. And, if you respect me and like me, as much as I respect and like you, then you'll let me make this choice on my own. I'm going to the Games, Peeta. Don't be sorry. Please." Prim finally finished.

Peeta closed his eyes and let the few tears that were there drip down, before he opened his eyes, bending down and trapping Prim in an embrace.

"Thank you, Primrose." he said sincerely, smiling into the little girl's hair.

"Actually, I think that I should be thanking you, Peeta." Prim replied, and Peeta pulled away, looking at her curiously.

"So, thank you." Prim added.

Peeta looked confused. "For what?" he questioned quizzically.

"For saving my sister. For making her see the value in herself, and allowing her the chance—the _necessary _chance—to be a little selfish." Prim said, smiling.

Peeta smiled back. "Consider us even." he said, hugging her again.

"Time's up." the Peacekeeper said, entering the room.

Peeta stood up, and he and Haymitch nodded to Prim, silently saying goodbye, as they were escorted out.

The door slammed behind them, and Prim was lost in silence once again. She sighed deeply. That was the last she would see of home, before the Capitol got their chance to parade her around—parade her right to her death.

Then, the door opened one last time.

And, in stepped Rory Hawthorne, as a Peacekeeper pushed the boy in. Rory stumbled in, almost losing his footing, but managed to remain upright—as did his dignity, as he waved the Peacekeeper off of him.

"Five minutes." the Peacekeeper said seriously, before he shut the door loudly.

Prim looked more shocked than she ever did in the entirety of her short little life—and a great many shocking things had happened in that short little life.

She had no idea why Rory was here.

Truth be told, neither did he.

"…Rory?" Prim asked aptly.

Rory looked up at her, his dark hair and gentle grey eyes scanning her serenely, as if she was a masterpiece—a masterpiece that could and would vanish at any moment.

He nodded at her.

Prim inhaled and exhaled and exhaled deeply.

"What are you doing her—" Prim started suddenly, but she was cut-off, all-together, as a suddenly swift slew of actions caught her off-guard.

The first action was that of Rory racing across the room. The second action was that of Rory swiftly, gently, grabbing her face. The third action was that of Rory tucking a hair behind her ear. The fourth action, though, was the action that truly shut her up.

The fourth action consisted of Rory's lips—as they collided with Prim's own open mouth.

Rory kissed her like he had wanted to kiss her for years. He kissed her and he did not stop, did not care what happened as a consequence. He just didn't care anymore. He didn't care about anything—except _one _thing. And that one thing was a flower. That thing was Primrose.

Her taste filled his mouth, her sweet, rigid, taste that matched her personality so beautifully.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, his lips released her own mouth.

He in haled and exhaled very deeply. Prim did not move. She was far too shocked.

"Prim, I know that was quick, and this is quick, and I know I'm being selfish, but I'm sorry, I _have _to. We have to do things that keep us alive, don't we? And, if I didn't do this, then I swear to you, that I couldn't live. I swear it. I don't know what _love _is, Prim, but I can tell you that I know, for sure, when I do find out, I _will _know that I love you. I _know _I'll know it. I know it's selfish of me to tell you this now, and, and I'm so sorry for that, but, like I said I _had _to. I'm not good with words, an—" Rory started suddenly, but just as suddenly, Prim cut him off, as her mouth plastered against his own.

Her lips were moving with a ferocity that she did not know she had—a ferocity that she would need to keep her, and her partner, alive in the Games, a ferocity that she was glad Rory had shown her she did possess.

After another eternity, she broke their second kiss—her second kiss.

"It's okay to be selfish sometimes, Rory. Trust me, it's new information to me, too…but, believe me, it's true. …And, I'm _happy _that's true." Prim said, smiling happily. "Thank you for coming." she added silently, blushing as she finished her statement.

Rory blushed as well.

"Time's up." the Peacekeeper said, as he barged into the room, and grabbed Rory from the back, escorting him out.

"I'll see you when you get back!" Rory shouted, as he was ushered out of the room, and the door slammed behind him.

"Hopefully." Prim added silently, as the tears that she knew would come finally came, falling freely down her nose.

* * *

Gale sat in silence, and before he could even gather his thoughts, the door barged open.

There stood his mother, furious—and sad.

Hazelle Hawthorne walked right over to her—and slapped him, _hard. _The she pulled him close and hugged him—_tight_. The she kissed his forehead, as tears threatened to fall.

"Mom. Don't cry. …Please…don't do this."

"No. I won't. You won't see me cry—not until you come back. Then I'll cry when you have your nightmares. But, now, right now, no tears. None. Only words. Words that state things that you already know. I love you, Gale. And, I'll be here, when you get back—not to judge, but to welcome you back. Now go protect your little cousin." Hazelle said, releasing her son and smirking as she did so.

Gale smirked in return, nodding as he did so.

Then the true flood of emotions entered the room. Gale's family entered the room.

Vick was up front, followed by Posy, as Rory—surprisingly—came in last. Their gentle grey eyes and dark hair were all flowing with incredible emotion—with sadness.

"Well, I know you all didn't come to wish me luck, because you all _know _that I won't need it. And I _know _that you didn't come to say goodbye, because you _know _that I'll be back soon. …_So_…the only other logical explanation is that you all came here to give me a gift. Am I right?" Gale said, slightly sarcastically, as his confident tone put a smile of all of siblings' faces—all except the thirteen-year-old Rory.

Posy stepped forward, hugging her big brother tightly. "Yeah. We came to give you a gift. Mama said it was the only gift we could afford…but, that it was the most important one you'd need." Posy said, as she looked up to face her brother.

"Oh? And, what's that, rosy Posy?" Gale asked, picking his sister up and placing her on his lap, smiling at her.

She looked up at him and smiled back. She answered with one word. "Hope." she said simply.

Gale didn't cry. He never cried. He was Gale Hawthorne. But, right now, he was on the verge of tears.

"You know what, Posy, you're right. That _is _something that I'll need. Thank you—_all _of you—for this amazing gift, for giving me something to fight for." Gale said, scanning the room, and giving them all his best smile.

They all smiled in return. He hugged them all in return, including his mother.

Then, Rory spoke. "Mom? Posy, Vick? Would you guys give us a moment?" Rory asked suddenly. His family all looked at each other, and then they nodded, hugging Gale one last time, and leaving the room.

Rory stepped up to Gale and looked him square in the eye. "You bring her back. You hear? Bring. Her. Back." Rory ordered, and for once, Gale nodded, and did not argue.

"And Gale? I said _bring _her back, not _send _her back, you hear me? I don't give a damn what the Capitol and their rules say. Katniss and Peeta did it. I don't care what you have to do, but _bring _her back. You understand?" Rory added with finality.

Gale nodded in understanding, before pulling his brother close and hugging the life out of him. Tears spilled out of both of their eyes.

Rory finally let go, and without a further word, he left the room, speechless.

Gale exhaled deeply, and dried his eyes, before sitting down a catching his breath. This was going to be a _long _day.

Just as he sat down, the door opened again, and there stood his partner in survival.

"Hey Catnip." he said lamely.

She ran over to him—and slapped him.

"Ow, goddamn it! What is it with you women and slapping people?!" he asked aptly, in a slightly-joking manner.

Katniss then pulled Gale close, and hugged him for dear life—perhaps literally.

"It's okay, Catnip. I'll bring her back. Both of us. I promise." Gale said surely.

Katniss looked up at him. "Don't make promises you can't keep. I know you heard what Peeta was planning to do. I…I have enough martyrs in my life, Gale…I can't do this…I'm…" Katniss said, trailing off.

"Katniss. Look at me." Gale ordered. She did as she was told.

"Good. Now listen. You and Peeta did it. That means it's possible—somehow, it's _possible_. And, if it's possible, then I _will _make it happen. You hear me? It _will _happen." he said, sure of himself, once again.

Katniss nodded, now seeming to believe him—even if only slightly.

"And, besides, there is _no _way that I would let '_Bread Boy_' have something to hold over me and say that he did, that I couldn't do. I'm getting us both home—safely." Gale added.

Katniss chuckled. She actually chuckled. "You better, partner. Because, if you die, I will kill you." she said seriously, looking him in the eye.

Gale smiled and nodded, looking her in the eye, before hugging her one last time.

"Time's up." the Peacekeeper said, as he barged into the room. And just as suddenly as she had come in, the Girl on Fire was gone, leaving the boy—one of the boys—who loved her to stand in the wake of devastation that she seemed to leave wherever she went.

Gale sighed deeply when the door finally slammed shut behind her.

He didn't even have time to sit down, before it opened again—and there stood two of his Mentors. Haymitch and Peeta.

"Look, what you did was stupid as hell. Brave, but stupid." Haymitch said.

Gale nodded. "Can't be too smart, or the enemy will target you first, right?" Gale said, remembering something that Katniss had learned from Haymitch.

Haymitch smirked. "Damn straight, kid." he responded.

Peeta nodded to Haymitch. "Haymitch, would you give us a sec?" he asked—but he, somehow, managed to make his question seem like an order, a command. Haymitch nodded and exited the room, shutting the door behind him.

Gale and Peeta eyed each other for an eternity, before one of them spoke.

The one who spoke first was the one that was the best with words.

"Gale—" Peeta started, but Gale cut him off—abruptly.

"Look, what do you want, '_Bread Boy_?'" Gale asked angrily.

Peeta's calm, cool, collected demeanor evaporated, and what was left was the face of a Victor, of a _survivor_.

"If you let me _finish_, then you would hear what I want, Hawthorne." Peeta answered back in a jaded tone—but a tone that held respect.

Gale huffed, but he nodded, nonetheless.

Peeta sighed—very deeply.

"You owe me. You're selfish, and I'm selfless. Those are two weaknesses. We are weak, Gale, you and me. Both of us. And you are all about settling your debts, right? Because they tie you down, hinder your life? You're wrong. Debts tie you to people, and people let you love, let you live, let you grow. Debt is a way to trust. You don't trust. Because you're selfish. And I don't deceive, because I'm selfless. My way of doing things will get me killed. Your way of doing things will get everyone around you killed. Both of those outcomes will render our lives _meaningless_. But, with Katniss, we can have _meaning_. ...Katniss is the same as you, but in the opposite direction. She has both of our strengths, and none of our weaknesses. But, she only sees weakness, Gale. You. She wants you. She loves you. And I risked _everything _to bring her back…to _you_. So, you _owe _me. You owe me a debt. And, today, you will repay that debt. Today, we'll be even again." Peeta stated, looking Gale square in the eye.

Gale was silent for a few moments, before he answered, choosing his words carefully. "What do you want for your repayment?" Gale asked, through clenched teeth.

"Simple. I want you to live. Come back. I don't give a damn what you have to do, but _do it_. Katniss loves you. And I love her. So her happiness is my concern. And you're a factor in that happiness. You _will _come back, Gale. And you will bring Prim back, too. You're _both _a large part of Katniss' happiness…and I _need _that part of her to be…_whole_." Peeta explained.

Gale's eyes went wide, and he slowly, surely, loosened his clenched fists.

"I…understand. Consider us even." Gale replied. Peeta nodded, and he turned to head out of the room, but Gale's voice stopped him.

"Oh, and Bread Boy?" Gale asked.

Peeta slowly turned around, slightly grudgingly.

"Thanks." Gale said, smirking, as his smirk turned into a sincere smile

"Don't thank me—not yet. Thank me, when you get back." Peeta replied, smiling as well.

And the baker's son left the room, and Gale was alone, once again.

The moment that Peeta closed the door behind him, he knew that he had just lied to Gale. He had truly believed everything that he had just said to Gale…but the look on Katniss' face—the girl that was standing right in front of him in the hallway, the girl that had heard his entire conversation with Gale—was enough to tell Peeta that he was wrong.

He wondered how wrong he was—and in what way. Katniss turned around and speedily marched away—in haste and in anger.

Peeta exhaled deeply, and walked after her, heading for the train.

Gale sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, and just a mere measly five minutes before Gale had to leave with Prim to board the train, the door opened, to let one last person in.

When the door shut behind her, Gale still couldn't understand why she had come. She couldn't even understand it.

Madge Undersee had no business associating with people from the Seam—or so Gale had believed.

The two stood there in silence for mere moments. Moments that felt like an eternity.

Finally, she spoke. She was the first to speak, because she had something to say. Gale did not.

"You know why I'm here, Hawthorne?" she asked suddenly, whipping her head up.

Gale raised an eyebrow at her actions. "…No. No, I don't, Madge." he replied, finally making eye contact with the Mayor's daughter and looking _deep _into her piercing silver eyes. Her blond hair didn't look innocent on her—not like Prim at all. It looked…bold, like a fire that refused to be put out, and Gale wondered why this girl seemed so different from the other merchant children and wealthy kids in District 12. She had the upbringing…but, she used that upbringing _differently_.

"You don't know why I'm here?" she asked, seemingly incredulously. Gale shook his head slowly.

She laughed—a loud, nearly mirthful, borderline hysterical, laugh. "I guess that makes two of us, then." she replied.

Gale raised an eyebrow at this peculiar girl in front of him.

"You know, I suppose it's like my curiosity. I just _had _to know what the Hunger Games were. So I asked. And I asked. …And, I asked. …And, finally, at the age of seven, my father took me to the Capitol and I _discovered_…what they—what _it_—was. Do you know what the Hunger Games are, Gale? What they truly are?" Madge asked, as if she'd had a recent epiphany.

Gale shook his head once more.

"They're inevitable." she replied.

Gale tilted his head to one side, truly studying this girl for the first time.

Madge chuckled again, but this time it was a darkly demented chuckle—as if she truly hated _everything _at this moment in time, as if she hated…_herself_.

Finally, Gale spoke.

"Inevitable?" Gale asked, now truly curious.

Madge swiftly snapped her head up, to look him in the eye once again, and she smiled slightly.

"Yeah. Inevitable. Humans are disgusting. We're violent. We're greedy. We're brutal. These Games were bound to happen sooner or later. We're a terrible species. But, you know what, Hawthorne?" she asked him, now readily indulging in the conversation.

"…What?" Gale responded.

"Humans are _worth _fighting for." she answered.

Gale was silent, so she went on.

"We're imperfect. But, those imperfections make us _perfect_. We admit our flaws. We don't hide from them. We embrace them. We use our failures to drive our successes. And right now, we are in the middle of one big failure. This whole country is a failure, Hawthorne. It's a big mess—a terrible, horrible mess. And it's a failure. But, we _needed _this failure, in order to have the best-possible success afterwards. That's what we do. We're only human, after all. We advance, don't we?" Madge asked.

Gale nodded slightly, urging her to continue.

"We break things, and then we rebuild them—better than before. It's hard, but someone _has _to do it—and that's just the point. Someone—some _people_—_have _to do it, Gale. It _has _to be done. But, we can't just let anyone do it. So, we get the strongest, the most durable, people to do it. And they break themselves over and over again, just to rebuild themselves, and make themselves strong enough to do what has to be done. Because the strong live, and the weak die. And life _has _to be lived—but it has to be lived only by those that can handle it. I've seen people like this. And I've aspired to be like them. My father, for instance. You ever wonder how a man that formerly _hated _the Capitol became the mayor of a District, serving the very people he loathed?" Madge asked him.

Gale shook his head, not knowing any of this information before this supposed stranger had started talking to him.

Madge frowned slightly. "The Capitol turned my father, from their biggest despiser, into their best worker, simply by hitting a strong man, in his only weak-point—the one thing that was a strength, as well as a weakness. His family. They killed my aunt—the twin sister of my father's fiancée, the woman my father loved and protected like she was _his _sister. They sent Maysilee Donner to the Hunger Games. And then they offered to do the same to me—when they found out I existed…in my mother's womb. He took the job the next day. I've seen strong men falter. I've seen strong men become weak men." Madge said seriously, eying Gale with an intensity he did not know that girl could possess.

"Gale, I know why I came here now." she said suddenly.

"Why?" Gale asked, just as suddenly.

"I came to tell you something. Something simple. But, something that _needed _to be said. You, Gale Hawthorne, are a strong man. Do _not _be afraid to be afraid. Do _not _be afraid to look weak. Because you _are _strong, and they cannot break you. I aspire to be like, like so many before you, and if you fail, then there is nothing left for me. Nothing at all. I want you to remain _strong_, Hawthorne. You owe me now, and I know how you feel about debts." Madge said, stepping closer to him, and reaching into the pocket of her dress.

"I owe you?" Gale asked, a smile—surprisingly—playing on his lips.

She produced an engagement ring, fitted through a durable-looking chain-necklace. She motioned for him to spin around. He did as she ordered. She secured the necklace around his neck, and he turned back around so she could see how it looked on him. "There. _Now _you owe me. It was my mother's engagement ring. It gave me hope—hope that something _good _could come out of this terrible world. Now that hope is yours. Now, you owe me. Now, you have to repay that debt. And you know what I want, Hawthorne?" she said seriously, a smirk playing on her own lips.

Gale chuckled, and when Gale Hawthorne chuckled, it was to criticize, not to compliment—but, Madge enjoyed this chuckle, because it was a rare one, a complimenting one.

"What do you want, Undersee?" Gale inquired intricately, seeming to genuinely enjoy the conversation he was having with the girl—seeming to genuinely enjoy _her_.

"I want you to come back." she replied, looking down.

Gale tipped her chin up, and nodded at her, smiling sincerely as he did so. "No problem." he responded.

She scowled at him. "I'm…I'm serious, Hawthorne." she added solemnly, stuttering slightly as she did so. Her heart seemed to have a very similar stutter at that very moment.

"Fine, Madge. I owe you. And, I promise. I'll repay the damn debt. You have my word." Gale said, as he crossed his heart.

"Good." Madge said, nodding and smiling slightly.

"Just out curiosity, Undersee, where, exactly, did you learn all of this information about what makes mankind so violent, so imperfect, and so…worth fighting for?" Gale inquired intricately. And, almost immediately, he regretted doing just that.

There was silence for a time. And then Madge answered his question.

"I learned all of this…when President Snow made me, a seven-year-old, watch videos of the Hunger Games…and _made _me gain an _appreciation _for the violence that mankind is capable of. He made a seven-year-old handle a gun, handle a rifle, a weapon you would _never _find in a District. And you know _why _he did this, Hawthorne?" Madge asked adamantly.

Gale shook his head, once again.

"Because, I was asking questions, and he had to silence me, so he did so—by satisfying my curiosity. He showed me what I wanted to see." Madge said, somberly. She huffed darkly.

"He even let me take those damned things—those damn guns—back to 12 with me—_especially _that rifle. No, he didn't _let _me take that rifle. He _made _me take it. He wanted me to _respect _that weapon—just as much as I _feared _it. And he got what he wanted. Every round I fire from a gun fills me with fear…fear and power. And that power scares me, Gale. It makes me wonder if I should be aiming for Snow's head…or my own. And that's what Snow does. He gets inside your head, and then he rips you out of it." Madge elaborated further.

"You know what, though? I learned to respect it—that rifle, those guns—just as much as I hated it. It became the answer to all my questions, and with every new answer, came new questions. I would sit outside of the outcropping of the fence, sitting completely still, just firing off rounds all day long—just to make sure I wouldn't put one of those bullets in my own head. But I wouldn't do that. I couldn't. I would have done that—if I was weak. But I'm not weak, Hawthorne…not _that _weak, anyways. And you'll help me prove that—when you come back…" Madge elaborated further, trailing off, and dropping her face, to avoid eye contact with him.

Gale's eyes went wide. '_Well…that was unexpected._' he thought silently, unable to put his thoughts into words.

"I know you're not weak, Madge. That's always been pretty damn obvious." he replied at last. She looked up to him, saw the sincerity in his eyes and smiled—slightly.

"Thanks, Hawthorne." she responded.

He couldn't understand why the way _she _said his name was attractive, and the way that Katniss said his name was…_painful_.

"Don't thank me. It wasn't a compliment. It was a _fact_." Gale retorted. She smiled fully at him this time.

"And you just decided to come here and tell me _all _of this a few minutes before I leave to face near-imminent death, because you thought it was good time?" he asked, semi-sarcastically.

Madge scowled slightly at him. He smirked. "No. I already told you. I aspire to be…like you—so, without you, there'd be no point for me. Thus, I told you what you needed to know…to keep you alive…" Madge said, trailing off.

"And there is absolutely _no _other reason, Ms. Undersee?" Gale asked, smirking, as he knowingly tormented the girl with information that he had already gathered.

"…Maybe. But that's irrelevant." she replied.

'_Coward_.' she thought to herself.

Gale titled her chin up, and looked into her eyes. "It's relevant to me." he said, very serious this time.

Madge opened her mouth to say something, but just as she did so, a Peacekeeper entered the room, and spoke.

"Time's up." he said suddenly.

"Time to board the train." he added, commandingly. Gale didn't take to well to orders from _anyone_—let alone orders from Capitol Peacekeepers.

Gale nodded at the Peacekeeper. He looked at Madge one last time. "I suppose I'll see you when I get back." he said, smiling sincerely.

She just nodded in return, happy that the last image she would have of him would be his smile. Something had just happened between herself and Gale Hawthorne, and she wasn't quite sure what it was. Madge _never _talked. She was even more closed-off than Katniss—her one true friend, even though they rarely talked. And, even though this was true, she had spilt her whole life story—surprises and everything—to a boy she barely talked to—granted, she had known the boy for many years.

Madge exhaled deeply, as soon as the door slammed shut behind Gale. If that boy died in the Games, she might just die from stress herself. Gale was a part of her now—and she was part of him. That ring meant more than he'd ever know. She hoped it would be enough to bring him back.

That's what all of the Victors hoped for their family members. But, they were all terminal. They all had a lethal disease. And that disease was hereditary. That disease was their heartless bloodlines.

**A/N: Well, I hope that you all enjoyed that chapter. On a side-note, any and all of you, wonderful readers/reviewers, should surely check-out my profile, and see what other of my publicly posted FanFics might interest you! There may be a few. If you have read a book, then the chances are that I have read it as well, and if I have read it, then I'd love to talk about it! Message me, if any of you guys have any questions, or just want to chat, about ANYTHING. I'd love to hear from you! Also, if you want to enjoy more awesome "_Hunger Games FanFiction_," then I suggest that you all check-out my other Hunger Games FanFic, entitled "_A World of Warriors_." Reading/reviewing that story will give the feedback that I _need_—and, when I get what I need to write, I tend to write _more_! Well, stay tuned for the next update, and please click that subscribe/alert button, if you want the alerts for updates on this story, or simply message me, and ask me to message you every time I update, as I would be HAPPY to do so! So, please R&R, and stay tuned for the next update! **


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